Sunday, April 28, 2013
2:51 pm pdt
Why I Hate My Job
Interview #197: Catfish Farmer
Me? I’m a farmer? Catfish. Where did
you think farm raised catfish comes from? It ain’t as easy as you think, though there are times, I have
to admit, when it’s downright peaceful, sittin’ around a campfire listen to the fish softly bubble. Twice
a year we drive ‘em in. We bring ‘em in the spring when we brand the fries. And then in the fall,
when we fry the adults. Trust me. Ya gots to use a little brand or you’ll fry the fries. And branding
them’s the only protection we got against catfish rustlers. I call my spread the Swimming W Ranch. If you
could see the brand, the W looks like it has little fins. Or at least, it’s supposed to. But then, it is
the alphabet. I don’t have a lot to work with. The “W” stands for water. We use jet skis
when we round ‘em up. Tried a horse once, but that was all but useless. A fella once suggested a seahorse,
but that’s just plain silly. Seahorses live in saltwater. Catfish live in fresh. Don’t think
you’re not gonna be gettin’ wet, though. Some of them small fry get off in the shoals and the only
way you’re gonna get ‘em back to the herd is to jump right in there. But that’s what I do. Farm
catfish. Can’t say as I rightly hate it. But there ain’t a whole lot to love, either, not if you don’t
like bein’ wet all the time.
2:46 pm pdt
2:27 pm pdt
If your interpretation of god says it's alright to
kill people, then you either need a different interpretation, or you need a new god.
Naked people walk funny.
If females dominated society, just imagine the silly clothing they would make men wear.
Good people can be persuaded to do horrible things.
If you don’t want people making assumptions
about you, then you had best not make assumptions about them.